First Air Crossing of Channel

Hawera Star, Volume LIV, 2 March 1935, Page 11

First Air Crossing of Channel

QN Friday, January 7, 1785, at 1.13 in the afternoon, Mr Blanchard, accompanied by Dr. Jeffries, took his departure for the Continent in his balloon, from the Castle at Dover. It svas exceedingly cold; he vrorc his greatcoat. Dr.-Jeffries was in a light sailor’s dress. Nine bags. of ballast, a large inflated bladder containing letters frflm people of the first distinction in this country to several of the French nobility, some philosophical instruments, a bottle of brandy, two beautiful silk ensigns, and two cork jackets made up their cargo.

When they got over the sea, Mr Blanchard stood erect in the car, and saluted the spectators most gracefully, by bowing, taking off his hat, and waving his ensign. . . . That is the account of the first crossing of the

Channel by air, 150 years ago, as it appeared in the “Salisbury and Winchester Journal” ten days later, writes It. Behnett in “The Listener.” I may add that that journal, which was 56 years old even then, still flourishes in Salisbury. The rest of the story is told in tnis letter which Dr. Jeffries wrote to a friend Heaven has crowned my utmost wishes with success; I cannot describe to you the magnificence and beauty of our voyage. When about mid-Channel, and at a high elevation, we had such a prospect of the country as surpasses my descriptive faculties; when about two-thirds over, we had expended the whole of our ballast. My noble little captain gave orders to strip our serial car, but still approaching the sea very fast, my little hero stripped, and threw away his greatcoat. On.

this I was compelled to follow his example. He next threw away his trousers. We put on our cork jackets., and Were, God knows how, as merry as grigs l , to think how we should splutter in the water. Luckily, at this instant, we ascended higher than ever Before, and made a most beautiful and loftly entree into France exactly at 3 o’clock’. We descended most tranquilly into the midst of the forest de Felmores, almost as naked as the trees, not an inch of rope or cord left —no anchor —of anything else to help us. My good little captain begged for all my exertion to stop at the top of the first tree I could reach. I succeeded beyond my comprehension, and you would have laughed to see us, without a coat of any sort, Mons, Blanchard assisting at the valve and I holding the top of a lofty tree. . . .”